Let's Put a Smile On That Face
by A.B. Trerron
Summary: The Mayor's daugher Amy awakens from a long night of partying to find herself in a very strange situation. Rated MA for explicit sexual content.


Let's Put a Smile on That Face

by A.B. Trerron

"Remind me how you like your eggs, Amy," he said pleasantly. "Sunny side up, right?"

Her eyes blinked into focus and rested on her captor. He wore white face paint, with thick rings of black lining his eyes and red smeared into a grotesque smile across his lips and two deep lacerations that had healed into scars across his cheeks. He also wore a white apron with the words "Kill the Cook" over a purple suit and a hairnet over faded green hair that looked as though it hadn't been washed lately.

She started to stand up, but found herself tied securely to a kitchen chair. She wriggled against the purple silk scarves that bound her and made muffled sounds through her gag.

"I pegged you for a screamer." He pointed at her with a gloved finger and flipped the eggs with his other hand. Her eyes widened as he turned off the stove and walked toward her. He bent down so that he was just an inch away from her face and licked his lips. "But if you promise to save your screams for later, I'll take off the gag."

She nodded and he gently removed the gag.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I thought you might be hungry." He walked back to the stove and deposited the eggs onto a plate. He set the plate on a table and turned her chair so that she faced it. Then he sat down on the other side and pulled a knife out of his jacket sleeve.

Her eyes widened at the knife. "My father can pay you anything you want," she said.

"I know that." He picked up a fork and began cutting the eggs. "But I don't want money."

"So what do you want?"

He held a bite of egg to her mouth. "I just want to feed you breakfast."

She shut her lips tightly.

"They're not poisoned." He rolled his eyes and ate the bite himself, then told her through a full mouth, "And besides, I like a girl with an appetite."

She kept her mouth shut.

He loaded the fork again and moved it in circles in front of her face. "Open up for the choo-choo train."

She glared at him.

"Look, these people just want to get home from a long day at work. But they need to go through the tunnel. Help 'em out?"

She spit on the plate of eggs.

"Now have a heart." He stood up, threw the fork on the table, and screamed, "Because of you, little Johnny doesn't have a mommy anymore!"

She shivered and cowered away as he got an inch away from her face again. He lowered his voice. "But maybe you're just not a breakfast person. Maybe you'd rather watch a little TV."

He furiously untied the knots that held her to the chair, and threw her over his shoulder. Her arms and legs were still tied together. He dumped her onto a dirty, ragged green couch and walked over to a tiny brown television that looked like it was from the fifties. He turned it on and smacked it to straighten up the picture. He took off his apron and hairnet and shook out his greasy locks. Then he took a seat beside her and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Nothing like a little good old-fashioned TV to take your mind off your troubles," he said and scratched his crotch in a mock "typical male" fashion.

On the television, a brunette newscaster reported, "After escaping Arkham Asylum last month, the convicted killer known as The Joker has shown his face again in this shocking video."

A shaky homemade video appeared on the screen, and Amy saw herself tied to a chair, her chin-length red hair barely falling over her drooping head. She was wearing the same outfit she wore now, thankfully, ripped jeans and a black tank top with a skull on the front. The Joker knelt beside her and lifted her face toward the camera. "This is Amy, and she's had a little bit too much to drink tonight. Now I feel it's my civic duty to make sure the Mayor's wayward daughter returns home safely, but unless he meets me at the Gotham docks in three days, at 9 pm, by himself, little Amy is going to find out that too much drinking can make sweet little girls grow up too fast." He kissed her cheek, leaving a red lip print, and cackled as he shut off the camera.

The Joker got up and turned off the television.

"You'll never get away with this," she told him. "Batman will rescue me."

He knelt down in front of her and licked his lips. "The question isn't whether Batman will swoop in and save you. The question is, at the end of three days, will you still want to be rescued?"

He patted her cheek and walked away from her.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I'm going to take a leak," he said, matter-of-factly. "You're welcome to join me if you need to go too. But I'm not untying you."

She glared at him.

"Don't worry, I won't peek. Scout's honor." He held up his fingers in the boyscout symbol.

"No, thank you."

He chuckled to himself as he walked out of the room.

"So tell me, princess." He sat on the other end of the couch and shuffled a deck of cards. "Are you a rebel?"

"What?"

"Well, your pants look like they're ripped on purpose and your shirt has a skull on it. So I figure you must be a pretty dangerous girl."

"Fuck you."

He scooted next to her and put on an incensed face. "I'll have you know, I am not that kind of girl. I never go past second base on the first date." He sniffed her hair, and his voice deepened. "Unless you ask very nicely."

She turned her head away from him.

"Oh don't worry, sweetie." He raised his hands in front of him, innocently. "Never without her permission – that's my motto."

She gave him a disgusted look. "You kill people for fun."

"You can't spell slaughter without laughter." He grimaced.

"You make me sick."

"Now look." He brushed her hair mock-lovingly behind her ears. "I have been nothing but nice to you. I took you to a safe place after your drinking binge, I used my best silk scarves to tie you up, just so you wouldn't have rope burns, and I even made you breakfast. Doesn't that count for anything?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Pretty girls shouldn't make ugly faces, and you are far too pretty to be making that face."

She scowled, but secretly enjoyed the compliment.

He ran a gloved hand over her bare arm, making the hair stand on end. She shivered. "What, can't a guy be honest?" he breathed against her ear.

Her breathing shallowed. His nose was touching her earlobe. She felt his breath against her neck. She knew she should pull away or scream or, hell, do anything but enjoy the proximity of a murderer, but she couldn't help it. No one ever told her she was pretty, not even her own mom. Or dad. She turned her head to face her captor and met thickly lined brown eyes. He ran his hand over her arm and let his eyes wander over the rest of her. She felt a familiar rush in her pussy, and when his eyes met hers again she blushed. His lips were millimeters from hers.

"I need to pee."

A smile crept over his scarred face. "And I thought you were going to hold it all day."

He carried her to the bathroom and sat her down on the closed toilet. The bathroom was small, grimy, and dimly lit.

"I don't think we know each other well enough for me to wipe your cute little tush, so if I untie you, will you promise not to do anything stupid?"

"I don't do stupid things," she told him.

He untied her and leaned against the door.

She raised her brows at him. "Can I have some privacy?"

"May you?"

She gave him an annoyed look.

"It's '_may_ I have some privacy?'. And no, you may not."

"I can't go in front of you."

"Well, you'll just have to sit there then."

She stomped her foot. "Ugh, fine. But don't look."

He covered his eyes with his hands. "I'll be a perfect gentleman."

When she had finished her business, she pulled her pants up and flushed the toilet. He turned the faucet on for her.

"_May_ I take a shower now?" she asked as she washed her hands.

"If you feel the need, but make it short."

She stepped into the moldy shower and closed the curtain. Then she took her clothes off and held them over the curtain. A gloved hand took them. She turned on the water and sighed as the warm droplets caressed her skin.

"_May_ I use the soap?" she asked.

He handed it over the curtain.

She used it to wash her hair and then moved to her breasts.

"You know, you could benefit from a shower yourself."

"No point," he replied.

"Sure there's a point," she said. "The ladies like a clean man. And you look like you'd probably clean up well."

She heard him shuffling around the bathroom and moved the soap to her arms. "But suit yourself."

The shower curtain opened and in stepped a very naked Joker. He was lightly muscled and had several large scars across his chest. A light brown happy trail led from his navel to his above average dick. He leaned against the shower wall and licked his lips.

"Hey, I'm up here." He pointed to his painted face.

She hastily covered her breasts and tuft of red pubic hair with her hands. "What are you doing?!"

"Just showering. Like you suggested."

"But I meant--"

He knelt down, his painted face inches away from her pussy, and looked up at her. "You dropped the soap." He pulled her hand away from her crotch and placed the soap back in it. Then he stood up so that his skin barely brushed hers. She could feel his dick growing against her belly, as he looked her up and down. His eyes rested on her thighs. Or rather, the scars on her thighs.

"Are you a cutter, Amy?"

She didn't answer.

"Me too." He pushed his tongue against his cheeks. "Wanna know how I got these scars? You see, I was a teenager once too. And my parents didn't really pay attention to me. Especially my father. And I hated my father. So I start out small, little nicks on my arms and whatnot, hoping they'll walk into my room and catch me. But they don't. So the cuts start getting bigger, more visible. But they still don't notice. So one day I walk into the dining room, in the middle of dinner. And my father says, 'Why don't you stop all this teenage angst bullshit? Sit down, have dinner with the family, and I better see a smile on that face.'"

She backed up against the shower wall, and he grabbed her wrists, pinning her arms.

"'You wanna see me smile?' I ask him. And I pick up a steak knife and do this." He licked his lips. "And rather than take me to the hospital, that bastard called me a freak and kicked me out of the house."

His lips barely brushed hers even though his grip on her was tight.

"Now I'm guessing," he murmured against her trembling lips. "That your father doesn't pay much attention to you either. What, between his campaigning and his real work. But I wonder what he'd think if he knew his little girl was out all night drinking and hitting on cold-blooded killers like me."

She kneed him in the groin, causing him to back into the other side of the shower.

"Fuck!" He snarled.

She ran out of the shower, and through a bedroom, tripping over a laundry basket. She could hear him cackling behind her.

He strode toward her, knife in hand, dripping puddles of water as he walked. White paint was running down his neck. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her over to the bed, pushing her backward. She squirmed as he pinned her legs and arms with his and held his knife against her throat.

"How fickle is woman," he growled. "But no matter. I'm a patient man."

His hair hung over his face, dripping water onto hers. His cock was hard and it was pressed against her soft pubic hair. She whimpered and tears welled up in her eyes.

"Shhh..." He took the knife away from her throat and stroked her wet hair. "I told you, never without your permission."

He grabbed a cloth from the nightstand and held it over her nose and mouth.

"But you've been a very naughty girl. And you're going to sleep until you learn to appreciate me a little more."

The last thing she saw before she passed out was a blurry red smile.

She woke up fully clothed, tied again to the kitchen chair. The room was dimly lit. She could hear soft, classical music playing in the background. The table was set with mismatched silverware and wine glasses. Two candles were lit in the center and a dead rose lay on her plate. Dishes with steak and salad were set to the side, along with a bottle of wine. She hadn't eaten in two days, and it smelled delicious.

The Joker, fully suited, but with his green hair combed back and not a trace of paint on his face, sat in his chair. She was almost surprised to see how handsome he was, even with the scars. He picked up the dead rose, sniffed it, and set it down beside the candles.

"I'm a bit of a romantic," he said, nodding toward the candles and rose. Then he dished a piece of steak and some salad onto her plate.

"You slept all night and most of today, so I expect you're hungry."

He cut a piece of steak and held it in front of her. This time she opened her mouth.

"Atta girl. I think we got started on the wrong foot," he told her. "I'm not a monster. I'm really not. So I'm willing to let bygones be bygones."

He dabbed her mouth with a napkin.

"So how about you tell me a little more about dear old Dad."

"I'm not telling you anything."

He cut another piece of steak and put it in her mouth.

"I just ask because I think you and I have a lot in common."

She swallowed her bite. "I have nothing in common with you."

"Sure you do." He smiled at her. "We're both scarred. We both have fathers who care more about work than about us." He paused. "We both find each other attractive."

"How do you gather that?"

"Please. I saw the way you eyeballed me in the shower." He fed her another bite. "And it wasn't very ladylike."

"That's quite an imagination you've got," she said through a full mouth.

"Do you know what else I imagine? You and me, taking on this crappy little town, really pissing off your old man." He licked his lips. "And then coming home to a big, soft bed, where I spread your beautiful, scarred legs and put my tongue deep inside your flower. Like a bee."

She chewed her food slowly. Her pussy was beginning to tingle again. She mentally slapped herself.

He dabbed her lips with the napkin again. He picked up his knife and stood, then pulled out her chair and untied the silk scarves. He held out his hand for her to take. She looked at it and then at him.

"Would you care to dance?"

She decided it was probably best to take his hand and did so. He led her into the living room and held her right hand in his left; the hand with the knife he placed at the small of her back, pulling her close to him. He led her slowly around the room, looking into her hazel eyes.

"You are too beautiful," he breathed against her.

She could smell a musky, manly scent on him. But it wasn't cologne; it was him. He was intoxicating. She sighed.

He placed little kisses on her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks. He stopped moving and looked into her eyes for a moment. Then he pressed his lips to hers, flicking his tongue between them. She moaned softly and brought her hand up to caress his scarred cheek. He pushed his tongue deeper into her mouth, grazing her teeth and biting gently on her lips. Then he broke the kiss and looked intently back into her eyes.

"Take me?" she begged her captor.

He licked his lips and took her hand, leading her to the bedroom. He took off his jacket and toed off his shoes while she worked on his pants. When he was left with just his button-down shirt and tie and his green and purple striped socks, he pushed her back onto the bed and hovered over her.

"Tell me, princess," he breathed. "Have you ever done this before?"

"Twice," she told him. "In the backseat of my ex-boyfriend's car."

"Did you like it?" He unbuttoned her pants and pulled them off. Next came her black panties.

"Not really. But at least it was short."

"You haven't been with a real man yet." He scooted down and spread her legs. "Now let's put a smile on that face."

He kissed each of her scars, then breathed against her moist pussy and ran the tip of his tongue from the bottom of her slit up to her clit. He sucked gently on her clit and brought a gloved finger to her wet opening. She moaned and put her hands on his head. He pushed his finger deeper into her cunt and grinned gleefully as he listened to her soft moans. He raised back up over her, leaving his finger in her pussy and rubbing his thumb over her clit.

"Are you enjoying this?" he asked.

"Yes," she sighed.

"Then why haven't I seen you smile?"

She smiled shyly up at him and he touched the tip of his nose to hers, grinning back. He slid another finger inside. She gasped and pushed into him. He continued finger-fucking her and began grinding his hard-on into her leg. Then he pulled his fingers out and brought them up to her mouth.

"Taste yourself," he ordered.

She sucked her juice off his glove, looking up at him as she did so. He pulled his fingers out of her mouth and grabbed her throat, squeezing just hard enough to make her whimper. Then he kissed her roughly as he pushed his cock all the way into her slick cunt. She cried out.

"Sh-sh-sh," he chided. "Wrap your legs around me."

She did so and he sat up, putting his hands on her hips. He pounded into her several times. She moaned loudly with each thrust and he cackled in self-satisfaction. He leaned back over her and pulled her on top of him. He put his hands back around her throat.

"Fuck me, Amy," he commanded her. "Make yourself come."

She ground against him, letting his length fill her over and over. She licked around his lips and over his scars, loving the taste of his salty skin. She gasped and moaned softly as she felt her climax coming on.

"Don't come yet." He growled and squeezed her throat. "Keep fucking me, but don't you dare come yet."

She whined and pleaded with her eyes for him to let her come.

"Huh-uh." He grinned. "Beg me."

"Please let me come," she gasped.

"More."

"Please oh pretty please let me come, Mister Joker!"

He pulled her down by her throat and bit her earlobe. "Come for me, Amy."

She obeyed immediately, crying out as he pounded violently into her. He rolled her onto her back and continued slamming into her, bringing on several waves of mindless ecstasy. He grunted as he spilled himself into her, collapsing heavily on top of her limp body.

They both panted hard as they came down off their high. He rolled them onto their sides, his dick still resting inside her, and nipped at her collarbone. She kissed his hairline, and he raised his face up to meet her eyes.

"That was--"

"I know," he said, matter-of-factly.

"Can we do that again?" she asked, breathlessly.

He clicked his teeth together. "Not tonight, princess."

They drifted off to sleep, intertwined and sated.

At 9 pm sharp the next evening, the Mayor was waiting at the docks. He was, as instructed, alone. Two figures approached from a distance.

"Mister Mayor," the Joker addressed him. "Right on time."

"Amy honey!" He ran toward them.

"Ah-ta-ta!" The Joker pointed a handgun at him.

The Mayor stopped. "Amy, he didn't hurt you, did he?"

The Joker raised his brows and smirked. "Well, this should be interesting."

The Mayor saw that his daughter's hand was looped around the Joker's elbow.

"Amy, it's okay," he told her. "You can come home now. You're not in trouble."

"Daddy, I want you to meet my new boyfriend."

The Mayor froze. "What is this? What did you do to her?"

The Joker shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing she didn't want. Yikesss."

"You sonofabitch! I'll kill you!"

"Not if you want her back in one piece." The Joker pointed the gun at Amy's head.

"Okay, okay!" The Mayor put his hands in front of him. "What is it you want?"

"I have what I want. I have the Mayor's daughter in my bed. Now you and the rest of Gotham know that I'm in control of this sleazy little town. And there's nothing you can do about it." He jumped up and down and giggled.

"Not if I can help it," a gruff voice said.

"Ohhh! For crying out loud!" said the Joker.

Batman stepped up beside the Mayor. "You're going to send the girl over here and there won't be any more trouble tonight."

"Better do as the bat says, princess." He swatted her butt.

"But you said--"

"Go!" he barked.

She stomped her foot and huffed back over to her father. He grabbed her by the arm and walked away, Amy looking back over her shoulder at the Joker.

Batman strode toward the Joker. "You're going back to Arkham."

"I don't think so." He opened his jacket, revealing explosives.

Batman stopped and glared. "You win tonight, but I will find you and put you back where you belong. You haven't won Gotham yet."

The Joker grimaced. "We'll see."

A few weeks later, the Joker heard a tap at his door. He opened it to find a girl with chin-length red hair standing outside. He looked her over. She wore a green suit jacket and a purple knee-length skirt.

"Well hello, beautiful," he said.

"Hi."

"Did you bring what I asked you to?"

She handed him an envelope labeled "Election Night Security."

"Good girl." He licked his lips. "Now, let's go inside and put a smile on that pretty face."

End.


End file.
